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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112610">It Will Be Good</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_topolina/pseuds/la_topolina'>la_topolina</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Found Magic [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Domestic Violence, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Magical Dudley Dursley, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:07:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,069</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112610</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_topolina/pseuds/la_topolina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Petunia wanted to be <em>normal</em>, she wanted something else entirely. Dudley has a chance for the life she missed--if only she can help him catch it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Petunia Evans Dursley &amp; Harry Potter, Petunia Evans Dursley &amp; Severus Snape, Petunia Evans Dursley/Vernon Dursley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Found Magic [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894882</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>245</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It Will Be Good</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is set two years after <em>a rock and a hard place</em>, so Harry and Dudley are both about six years old.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>The end came faster than Petunia had been expecting.</p><p>It was another drearily normal Friday morning in another drearily normal July. Dudley’s birthday was approaching—the second since Petunia given Harry Potter over to the care of Severus Snape and the magical world to which the child belonged. Vernon was reading the paper, lingering over coffee and the hearty breakfast she’d made him. He was going to be late for work again, and he’d likely blame her for it if he got in trouble with his boss. She’d noticed within the first few weeks of their relationship that Vernon had an unattractive habit of blaming everyone but himself for events that were obviously his fault, but she’d been so desperate to escape from her parents’ house that she’d told herself it wouldn’t matter. Unfortunately, with each passing year, it became more and more clear how much it did.</p><p>“It’s almost nine, dear,” she said as she tucked tuna sandwiches and oranges into his lunch pail. </p><p>“I know my own business, Tuney,” he rumbled back. “And we’ll be better off when you learn to mind yours.”</p><p>She kept her voice flat and placid, even as she flinched. “I beg your pardon?”</p><p>He turned the page with a snap. “I’m talking about Dudley.”</p><p>She dropped the orange she was holding and watched as it rolled across the floor, where it came to rest near Vernon’s foot. He made no move to retrieve it for her (why would he bother helping with anything?) and she went to reclaim it. As she knelt down to reach under the table, a inexplicable wave of fear went through her. Her fingers closed around the orange, and when she glanced up at her husband, she could see an arrogant smirk twisting his lips. He was enjoying this.</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said when she’d retreated to the safety of the sink to wash the battered fruit. “There’s nothing wrong with Dudley.”</p><p>Vernon set down the paper and gave her a hard look. “Don’t play stupid with me Petunia. There’ve been too many strange things happening. Toys appearing and disappearing. The wind blowing through the house when Dudley’s excited. You know as well as I do what that all means.”</p><p>“I’m sure it’s just coincidence,” she protested weakly. “Or maybe something left over from when Harry used to live here.”</p><p>“After two bloody years? No, it’s Dudley. It’s those puny genes of yours. And if you think I’m going to sit by and let my son become a <em>freak</em>, you’ve got another thing coming. I’d have beaten it out of your nephew if we’d kept him, and you can be sure I’ll beat it out of my son.”</p><p>“He’s so young.” She turned to the breakfast dishes to keep her shaking hands busy, and she could see Dudley playing in the garden, kicking a ball between the rows of flowers. “He’ll grow out of it.”</p><p>She heard Vernon get up from the table and lumber towards her. The hair on her arms stood up on end as he put his hands on her shoulders. In another man, this might have been an affectionate gesture, but the tautness in his fingers felt menacing to her. He wasn’t a terribly affectionate man outside the bedroom (and could that sweating and swearing really be called affection?) and she knew this was a warning, even as his lips came down on the back of her neck.</p><p>“You’ve had your chance to get the boy under control. Now we’re going to do things my way,” he said. “It’ll make a man of him. One day you’ll both thank me for it.”</p><p>He took his lunch pail off the counter and went out of the room. On any other morning, she would have let him go and hoped that he forgot all about this exchange by evening. But something about his words—or his manner—or both—set off a primal warning that broke through the dullness of her everyday submission. She pulled her hands out of the dishwater and hurried after him, catching him just as he was getting into the car in the driveway.</p><p>“Would it really be so bad if he were special? They’ve their own school and everything. Nobody would have to know,” she said as she wiped her hands nervously on her skirt.</p><p>Vernon gave her an ugly smile. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you this morning, but you’re not the Petunia I know.”</p><p>He slammed the door and drove away without another word. She stood in the driveway watching him, her heart hammering in her chest while thoughts whirled through her mind so quickly she was helpless to catch hold of any of them. The morning sun was already hot, and it beat down on her until she felt her pale cheeks starting to burn. Her hands fisted in her skirt, she went around to the back of the house. When she reached the fence, she turned to look in the direction that Vernon had gone, and said to the air what she wished she’d had the courage to say to her husband’s face.</p><p>“The version of me you created in your mind is not my responsibility.”</p><p>She let herself into the yard in time to see Dudley give his ball a wild kick. It flew into one of the rosebushes, breaking a brilliant flower off the stem.</p><p>“Oh, no!” Dudley wailed. “I like the flower.”</p><p>“It’s alright Dudley,” Petunia said. “There are more flowers.”</p><p>Dudley seemed on the verge of tears, but suddenly he stopped sniffling. “Look Mummy!”</p><p>He was pointing at the rose, now reattached to its bush and blooming even more radiantly than it had been before the accident.</p><p>She knelt beside him and pulled him into a fierce hug. “It’s beautiful, darling.”</p><p>Tears stung her eyes as she held her boy and replayed Vernon’s threats in her mind. It wasn’t fair. Dudley wasn’t a freak. He was fine the way he was, and she’d be damned if she’d let anyone touch a hair on his head.</p><p>“Mummy, you’re squeezing me,” Dudley said.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” She let go of him reluctantly, and her mind stopped spinning, focused on a single objective. “Come use the loo. We’re going for a walk.”</p><p>“Where?”</p><p>“Visiting.”</p><p>Now that the decision was made, she could not leave the house fast enough. It seemed to take Dudley forever to use the loo, and it took even longer for her to dig the leather pouch out of the back of her closet. Vernon never came home from work early, but she jumped at the sound of every car that drove up their street, certain that he knew her plan and was coming to stop her. When Dudley was finally ready, she took his hand and half led, half dragged the child up the street, sure that the neighbors would see her and phone her husband. The quarter mile from Privet Drive to the park had never seemed so long.</p><p>They turned into an alley between a pair of abandoned storefronts. A fat rat scurried across their path, causing Dudley to yelp and cling to his mother’s skirts. Petunia ignored the animal and pulled a broken stick out of the pouch. Before she could think better of it, she held it up in the air. There was a loud crack like a car back-firing, followed by a gust of wind. Then she blinked and a hideously purple, triple decker bus pulled to a stop in front of them. The doors creaked open, and a thin man in a conductor’s hat and strange robes emerged.</p><p>“Knight Bus,” he said importantly “All aboard.”</p><p>Dudley’s mouth had dropped open, and he clung to his mother’s hand as they mounted the stairs. Petunia dug out the coins from the pouch and handed them over to the conductor. The door groaned shut behind them, and the driver—a twisted man with a white beard and enormous glasses—took off before they had a chance to settle themselves. Petunia managed to grab hold of the side of the driver’s chair, and Dudley was still clinging to her for dear life, so neither of them fell over despite the awful jerking of the bus. Unlit candles decorated the walls and ceilings of the vehicle, and a mismatched arrangement of sofas and wicker chairs slid back and forth across the aisles, apparently not bolted down.<br/>
“Take your seats please, Ma’am,” said the conductor.</p><p>That was not going to happen. “We’ll stand.”</p><p>The conductor shrugged. “Suit yourself.”</p><p>Petunia was certain that either she or Dudley would be sick before they reached their destination, but the ride, while horrible, was mercifully short. Before she had to deal with either fainting or vomit, the driver shouted “Cokeworth!” over the squeal of the breaks. She helped Dudley down the stairs, and the bus disappeared, leaving them in front of a row of terraced housing that had all seen better days. Her legs were trembling, and Dudley was sucking his thumb beside her. As she stood staring at the house before them, checking and rechecking its number to be sure she was in the right place, a cold sense that she’d made a terrible mistake began to displace some of the adrenaline she’d been running on for the last hour. </p><p>“Where are we?” Dudley mumbled around his thumb.</p><p>She didn’t answer him, as she was in the midst of realizing that she’d foolishly left her handbag at home. Whatever money she had, she’d spent on the ride here. There was nowhere left for them to go but into the uncertain welcome waiting them at this gloomy house. They crept cautiously up the stairs, and with her heart pounding in her ears, she knocked hesitantly on the door.</p><p>Almost immediately, it opened to reveal a sallow-faced man with long black hair, humor sparking in his dark eyes. She wondered if he’d known they were coming.</p><p>“Petunia,” Snape said. “And Master Dudley. To what do I owe the pleasure?”</p><p>If she’d had more energy, she would have been annoyed by his sarcastic tone. But the flight had taken all her nerve, and she felt perilously close to tears.</p><p>“You said that if we needed you, you would help us,” she said tightly.</p><p>His expression softened, and he seemed to understand without her explaining. </p><p>“So I did. Please, come in. You will be safe here.” He turned and said over his shoulder, “Harry, come down! We have company.”</p><p>When the door was shut and locked behind them, Petunia let out a laugh tinged with hysteria which Snape, thankfully, did not draw attention to. She and Dudley followed him into a sitting room full of old furniture and older books. A basket of bright toys sat on the bottom of one of the shelves that lined the room from ceiling to floor, standing out like a cardinal on a winter’s day. Dudley let go of her hand, losing some of his shyness in order to explore their new surroundings, and she sank down on the sofa, her legs too shaky to hold her up any longer. </p><p>“Harry!’ cried Dudley, looking up from the toy basket as his cousin came into the room.</p><p>Petunia turned her eyes on her sister’s son, and they blurred with tears as she took in how much he’d grown and how healthy he looked.</p><p>“Hi Dudley,” Harry said, coming to hug the other boy with a confident spring in his step that reminded Petunia so much of Lily that it hurt to see.</p><p>She reached into the leather pouch to cover her tears, and pulled out the old teddy bear that Harry had given her when he’d left them for good. She’d spent many hours mending the toy, and while it was obviously still old, it no longer looked neglected. Harry came to her side and she held it out to him, a plea for forgiveness and a shield in one.<br/>
 <br/>
“Harry, I’m so sorry,” she said.</p><p>Harry took the toy from her hands and blinked up at her, his green eyes wise and solemn. </p><p>“Hello Auntie Tuney,” he said. “I forgive you. Have you come to stay?</p><p>The tears spilled over her cheeks, and she did not bother to check them any longer. </p><p>“We have, if that’s alright with you.”</p><p>Harry smiled at her. “Yes. It will be good.”</p>
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